Twenty-five years passed like the wind that cradled Aetheria's floating towers—gentle, golden, and deceivingly calm.
The kingdom thrived under King Alarion's reign. The people sang of peace and prosperity, and children played under banners bearing both sunlight and moonlight, symbols of the royal twins. But behind the polished marble and enchanted skies, not everything was as balanced as it seemed.
Prince Auren, now a man, moved through the palace like a living sunbeam. Wherever he walked, people turned to smile. He spoke to palace staff by name, healed the sick with a touch of his glowing hand, and listened as the council spoke—truly listened, his brows gently furrowed, heart open.
Auren was everything a ruler was meant to be.
Charming. Empathetic. Pure of heart.
And Kael, his twin—the kingdom's General—watched it all from the shadows.
---
In the vast training grounds below the palace, Prince Kael stood still as stone, his obsidian blade drawn. His breath was calm. Before him, ten elite soldiers circled with cautious reverence.
"Again," he ordered, voice sharp and quiet.
They rushed. Kael moved like smoke.
In five seconds, they were on the ground, disarmed and gasping.
The commander watching from the side—Lior, Kael's only friend—gave a low whistle. "You'll kill someone at this rate."
"If they die here," Kael said, returning his blade to its sheath, "they'd never survive a real war."
Kael turned his storm-gray eyes to the horizon, where the clouds shimmered pink with dusk. His expression betrayed nothing. But inside, he felt it—the constant knot in his chest.
No matter how many battles he won, how many border threats he crushed, or how many enemies he personally dragged into chains...
They never looked at him the way they looked at Auren.
---
That evening, the royal family gathered in the starlit Hall of Balance, a high chamber where twin thrones—one golden, one obsidian—stood side by side beneath a crystal sky.
King Alarion sat in between them now, flanked by both sons. The Queen, regal and serene, watched the moment closely.
"You're both twenty-five," the King said, his voice echoing with calm authority. "Auren, it is time you began preparing for your next step—finding your Crown Princess."
Auren blinked, surprised. "So soon?"
The Queen smiled gently. "Aetheria needs a future Queen, my son. A partner worthy of your heart."
Kael shifted in his seat.
And then, from the edge of the dais, the Seer stepped forward.
"Her path is not here," she whispered. "The one destined to walk beside the Crown Prince lies far below… on Earth."
Everyone turned.
"Elara," the Seer spoke, her voice distant and strange. "Healer. Psychologist. A soul marked by balance, drawn to pain so she can heal it."
Kael's heart stopped.
That name. That feeling.
He had seen her in his dreams for as long as he could remember. A girl with eyes like oceans after rain. A girl who looked at him—not with fear—but understanding. A girl who haunted him like a memory from another life.
Auren stood, hopeful and bright. "Then I'll go," he said simply. "If she is my destined Queen… I will bring her home."
Kael rose as well, his voice quiet but cold. "You'd bring a human into the skies? Just because a seer said so?"
Auren looked at him, confused but patient. "I trust fate. Don't you?"
Kael stared at him for a long moment, then turned away.
---
Later that night, Kael stood alone on the palace rooftop, the wind tugging at his dark coat.
"She's not meant for you," Lior said from behind him. "The dream girl. The seer said she belongs to Auren."
Kael said nothing.
But in the darkness of his magic, something twisted. Not hatred. Not yet.
Just a silent, aching fracture—the kind that only grows louder with time.